


Puppet Strings and Nothingness

by milkandmochi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandmochi/pseuds/milkandmochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Akaashi's life is very unfair [HIATUS] [in process of rewriting it into 3rd person pov plus v busy]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It stings. The pain, spreading like lighting across the sky. It stings for only a moment and then it numbs. It all seems so sudden. It hurts but it’s not the direct infliction. My chest. It clenches. My eyes start to blur for a moment before I retain myself, keep myself together. To not fall apart in front of those who don’t deserve it. To those that aren’t allowed to be shown such weakness, to get the upper hand. But I’m shaking. I’m trying to keep my posture, to keep calm, but my body isn’t cooperating. It’s like a storm in the night; it doesn’t matter how strong or brave you may be, when the winds start tearing towards your way, and your vulnerable, everything gets torn apart. 

It all comes back together again. Realization. I have just been slapped. I see my mother. She’s screaming, cursing at me. But what is she saying?

“You’re a disappointment! I give you everything! Everything! I give you a home, food, clothes! You ungrateful child! You’re the biggest fucking problem in this family! You’re tearing this family apart! Is that what you want!? Is that what you are trying to fucking do!? How dare you talk badly about me behind my back to your therapist! He called me neglectful! You ungrateful fucking child! You’re grandfather even told me that you’ve been lying to your therapist! That you don’t actually cut yourself! ”

“You saw my scars,” I replied quietly.

“What did you fucking say!?”

“I showed you my scars,” I stated once more.

“No! You’re lying! You’re always lying to everyone! You only want attention!” she continues, “Do you understand how many hours I have to work every day to provide for you!? I’m even going to school to get a higher degree! But now that has to wait because I have to pay for your fucking medication! I’m sacrificing everything I love for you and you have the nerve to talk shit about me, about this family behind our backs to your therapist! You’re lucky I even let you go to a therapist! I wanted you to be happy!” she screams. 

I’m cornered in my bedroom sinking down the wall. This can’t be happening. I didn’t do anything wrong. No. This is all my fault. I’m a bad person. I deserve this.

After she had enough yelling at me, she went upstairs to complain to her father, my grandfather about me.

She then later comes downstairs and leaves the house. I stay in the same spot.

Not even a minute later my grandfather confronts me in my room and points at me accusingly, “No wonder why your mother just wants to beat you to death with a baseball bat sometimes!” and leaves, slamming the door.

I want to die.

I feel numb. My soul, once more, ripped away and shredded. The pain in my chest clenches ever more as my lungs and breath start to wrack. I told myself I would keep myself together, but in no time at all my vision is blurry as the hot salty liquid starts pouring down my face with not a hint of stopping anytime soon.

“I need to leave this place,” is my first thought. Through the blurriness of my tears, I crawl across my room and grab my phone off the bed. I wipe away the tears from my eyes in an attempt to see my phone screen. Tear drops start to fall on the screen. I tap on the phone icon and scroll through my recent calls list until I find Bokuto’s number. I tap his name.

The ringing to his phone feels like long minutes rather than a few seconds. My mind is all mushed up and I can barely think clearly other than I had to leave this house. The phone connects.

“Hey, Akaashi, what’s up?” Bokuto exclaims as his usual self.

“Boku-,” I stutter before breathing in and out for a few seconds to regain my breath.

“Akaashi, what’s wrong,” Bokuto asks, well, more like carefully demands in a more serious tone. 

I try to continue knowing that my voice will hitch on my unsteady breaths, “Bokuto, y’know h-how you…” I pause for a second to breathe in deeply before continuing, “…how you said th-that I was welcomed over whe-whenever?” I ask as I try to, once again, regain my unsteady breaths.

“Yes,” he answers seriously.

“Can I take you up,” I breathe out, “on your offer for a while?”

“Yes, yes of course, Akaashi. Anything for you. Do you want me to come pick you up?” he asks calmly.

“No…I can walk,”

“I’m picking you up, you live too far to walk alone at night,”

“No, Bokuto, don’t come here,” I say almost harshly.

He takes a moment before responding, “I’ll meet you half way,”

“Okay,” I responded for it was rational.

“Alright, pack a small bag and I’ll meet you by the stop sign by the old house,”

“Okay,” I hang up first.

I grab a drawstring bag out of my closet and put two shirts, jeans, and my medication all within it. After putting on a sweatshirt I also grab my school bag, sling it over onto my shoulder and leave my room, closing the door behind me. Heading towards the front door I pass through the kitchen thinking about what the consequences for leaving the house would be, but I shake it out of my head for the time being and left the house. 

I begin walking towards Bokuto’s home.

It’s dark and cold and windy, but the only thing that I can concentrate on is the empty concrete road and the hot tears that stained my face and the cement below.

It only took about fifteen minutes to reach the midpoint between our houses when I saw Bokuto waiting anxiously by the stop sign. Once he saw me he rushed over with a concerned look.

“Hey, Akaashi, give me your school bag, I’m not going to let you carry all that stuff,” he made sure to state carefully and softly as his voice oozed with concern but was not willing to take a no for an answer. I handed the bag over to him.

The walk was quiet and I appreciated it. Even though Bokuto tends to be mostly a loud mouth he tends to be considerate with others’ feelings. He didn’t ask any questions and left it at that. 

It wasn’t long before we reached his house. He unlocked the door with his house key and welcomed me inside first. I subconsciously headed upstairs to his room.

I sat on his bed and settled my stuff on the floor. I touched my face and it was wet and hot to the touch. The feeling of a migraine started to make its way from the back of my head up to my right eye as though someone stabbed me with a knife and dragged it alongside my head. But I was too much in a daze to actually care or respond.

Bokuto sat next to me and stayed quite. Obviously concerned but not wanting to bother.

After a while of silence he spoke up quietly shaking me from my daze, “You should lay down and get some rest. Are you feeling up to going to school tomorrow?” 

A pang of fear past through my mind so I nodded and laid down.

Bokuto rubbed my arm a little and began to descend onto the floor to most likely sleep there. But before he could lay down I weakly grabbed his wrist and pathetically whispered on hitched breaths, tears still unwillingly down my face and onto my ears, “Please don’t leave me,”

He propped himself back onto the bed and laid down next to me. Holding my hand in reassurance, and before I passed out he whispered, “I will never leave you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dark. It’s dark. Where am I? My eyes are open…and yet.

Oh, that’s right. I’m awake in a room. My head now just a light throb above my right eye.

A green light catches my attention. Lifting my head, my eyes adjusting, it seems to be a digital clock. The green numbers in the black void of the midnight room makes me quint to read them. It’s about five in the morning.

I feel hot and sticky and clammy. I wipe my face. Moist. It seems to be that I woke up with a cold sweat. My heart thumps against my tight and tightening chest. It’s racing. I need to calm down. Did I have a nightmare? I don’t remember. I look around the room, gliding my eyes side to side, not knowing exactly what to look for in this black abyss. It’s too dark to see anything. Where am I?

Numb.

The numbness spreads from my hand and up my arm. Like steam traveling up from a boiling pot of water it climbs, spreads, and disperses. Did I injure my hand? My arm? My mind swirls in all the possible ways I could have gotten hurt with only my half-awake state. I use my free arm to reach and touch the numbness in my hand-

Warm.

It’s warm and…comforting. However, it’s not my hand. The flesh I feel is not mine. It’s much wider than my hand, and less blemished. No hardenings on its surface. I slowly begin to put together the muddled thoughts in my head. My hand is currently being clutched tightly, refusing to let go, and held into the chest, as if it was the dearest thing to protect and keep it from the cold, of a friend of mine. For a slight moment I think of how nice it made my chest feel. Someone caring.

However, it hurts. My hand is being gripped too tightly. I carefully remove it from his grip and flex it a bit to regain the blood circulation. It’s hot and sweaty. I wipe my hand on the blanket. False sense of security. Nothing good happens without a price to pay. No one gives unless expecting something in return. That’s just how things work.

At least for me.

I still have an hour or so till I have to get up for school so I try to go back to sleep. I fall asleep instantly.

 

“…ey…” a voice sounds, “Hey…” what is it? Who’s talking, it sounds familiar but I can’t put my finger on it? “Hey …ashi” I don’t want to get up. It hurts. I don’t want to wake up. I don’t ever want to wake up and face the unforgiving world, “Hey, Akaashi,” huh?

I wake up with a start. What is it? Who’s calling my name? Is it my mom? I need to get up fast, I can’t be late to school. I can’t. I open my eyes rapidly in a sudden alert of the fear building up in my chest. But then it comes to my realization of a blurry image walking across my vision. I sit up and rub my eyes.

“Huh?” I question as my vision begins to clear up.

“Hey, Akaashi. Nice to see you up. You slept through the alarm so I thought to give ya five extra minutes,” ah, It’s Bokuto. His hair is down and all messy.

"Bokuto-san?” I tiredly and groggily ask for the unnecessary clarification. I’m too much in a sleeping state to take any conclusions from my being to be definite. 

“Yeah?” he perks up from sliding a t-shirt over onto his body. Turning his head to face me once more.

“Ah, nothing,” I slide out of the bed still fully clothed, “I guess I’m all ready to go...” I say as I reference the shoes that are still on my feet from the previous night.

He nodded in agreement, eyebrows raised in an I-can’t-believe-you-actually-fell-asleep-in-your-shoes-last-night kinda way. He then walked over to his dresser and looked at his face for a moment before reaching for his bottle of gel. Squirting the gel into his hand and rubbing it between the other he raked his gray hair up into its owl-like form. While he was forming his hair, I just patted down my wavy dark hair that was sticking up in every which way.

Unlike Bokuto, I have no signature look. I’m just another background character to someone else’s more important and interesting story. I’m not worth anything. Useless trash.

“Akaashi?” slightly startled from my thoughts, I looked up to see Bokuto. His face had concern written all over it with his brows pushed in and upwards, lips parted as if ready to speak comforting words if I began to tremble and break. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” I asked trying not to show too much emotion or any distressed movements.

After only a slight moment of silence Bokuto un-furrowed his brows and asked casually as his normal self, “Nothin’, you were just spacing out. Ya ready to go?”

I hummed in agreement as I stood up, grabbing my backpack in the process and lifting it up onto my shoulder.

As Bokuto was leaving the room I put my pills within my bag. I need to take them as my morning dose. I’ll take them at school. 

Once doing so, I headed down-stairs and meet Bokuto at the door holding up some toast (how stereotypical). He gestured the piece of bread towards me, “Hungry?” he asked, waving the bread up and down a bit in hopes I’d take it.

“No thank you, Bokuto-san,” if I eat too early in the morning or right after I wake up then I’d get really nauseous.

He shrugged it off and ate the piece of bread to himself, “Alright, let’s go,” he opened up the front door and proceeded to walk out. I followed.

My house is close enough to be within walking distance from where the school is located so needless to say I would walk back and forth from it every day and have never ridden a bus before. However, Bokuto’s house is not that close. 

We had a quiet few minutes of walking towards the bus stop. The only sound was the crunch of the fallen leaves that we would walk onto. This being the case the leaves and the sound of them being crushed occupied most of my attention. We waited on the stained white side walk for a minute or so as more students gathered around at the stop. About five students appeared from what I could tell. The next thing I know, the bus rolls up.

Bokuto allowed me to go on ahead of him. However, it being that I’ve never ridden a bus before and my main focus consists of the crunching sound of the leaves and the feel of the wind, I stumbled and slipped backwards. I wasn’t fazed. I was prepared to hit the ground. I didn’t care what would have happened to me. And yet… the ground never came. I was still conscious.

“Ahhh, sorry Akaashi. I forgot to warn you of the steep steps,” his hands pressed firmly on both of my shoulders. I shrugged them off and continued into the bus.

I sat on the right side of the bus facing forward near the window. People and just noise in general makes me uneasy so I take out my earbuds and put them in my ears as I sit down. Bokuto sits down next to me not speaking a word. Instead, he takes out a folder from his bag and out from that, some paper. He begins to jot down some words. It’s most likely some homework he either didn’t finish or didn’t do yesterday. I turn on my music.

The bus ride is about twenty minutes long and all I can do is listen to music while staring out the window not actually looking at anything.

Somewhere along the line I closed my eyes. However, that is what jolted me in the seat. The bus had come to an unexpected (in my point of view) and abrupt stop at the school. All the other students stood up, waiting for the one’s ahead of them to one-by-one exit the bus. We left the bus and walked into the building.

Bokuto stayed by my side until we reached my first period class; his class only being five down from mine.

“Hey, Akaashi, what’s your eighth period class?” he asked.

I thought for a few seconds before answering, “French,”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your French class at the end of the period then,”

I don’t see the point but I just agree with an “Okay,”

“Great. I’ll see ya later then, Akaashi,” he said as he patted my shoulder and continued heading forward towards his homeroom class.

I head toward the bathrooms before heading to my class. I show the lady at the front of the bathroom my student ID, signed a paper form and proceeded into the bathroom. I take a glimpse around to make sure no one was looking and slipped into an empty stall. I slid my bag onto my side to unzip and take out my pills and water bottle. I take the medication quickly, downing half the bottle with it. Once done, I flush the toilet so that I didn’t look suspicious, got out of the stall and out of the bathroom. I sign the papers of leaving the stalls and headed towards my classroom as formally before.

I enter my classroom, walk over to my assigned seat and settle my bag on its side. Music still continuing in the earbuds I sat down and pulled out my books, that I most likely wasn’t even going to use, for that class. Class starts in ten minutes so I continue to listen to my music while resting my head up on the desk until the warning bell.

Once the bell for first period rings I slip one earbud into the left sleeve of my sweater, down my arm and onto my hand. I rest my cheek on my palm, still listening to the music in one ear.

School is a blur. A haze in the distance. Everything felt as though I was only observing. Just watching life go by as if watching a video. Nothing seems real. Am I really here?

I’ve been walking subconsciously from class to class and sleeping through most of them. It’s all a haze. I foggy haze. Fog so thick you feel as though you are suffocating.

I used to care so much about school, it was the only thing that was mine. The only thing I had control over. My grades were all I had, but now…now it’s all slipping through my fingers. How petty. My mind tells me. Nothing was yours to begin with. You’re just-

The bell rings. Oh, it’s eighth period already. I walk towards my French class, down the stairs and around the corner. My teacher was standing, as usual, outside her classroom door greeting her students as they came in. she was a little old lady in her fifties, with neck height blond hair and a peppy attitude. She couldn’t be taller than five three.

“Bonjour, monsieur!” she greeted.

“Bonjour, Madame,” I greeted back.

Once again, I sat down at my desk and laid my head down. I’ve been getting scolded all day for laying my head down and sleeping on the desks. It’s troublesome but I hate conflict so I just apologize and pretend to pay attention. This sucks. I have no motivation to do anything.

I don’t want to be here.

The bell rings. It disturbs my thoughts of realistic negativity, but I continue anyway.

I put the notebook that I didn’t use back into my bag, stood up, and headed out toward the door. Halfway exiting the classroom I heard a loud, “Hey, Akaashi!” from Bokuto, throwing an arm over my shoulder. It’s heavy.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” I respond as I lift his arm off of my shoulder. I don’t enjoy contact, but with Bokuto it’s a constant encounter.

“Akaashi, lets head down to the music wing,” he says in a more serious but non-threatening or suspenseful way.

“Okay,” I agree with him. I start to think of all the bad possibilities for him calling me out to speak with him privately. I’m probably going to be interrogated, to tell what’s going on or be told that I can’t stay long, or ask for how long I’m going to be there.

We head down to the music wing; Bokuto occasionally saying hi to people he was acquainted with. We enter one of the empty music practice rooms. Turning on the light we settle our bags down on the floor.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, ready to be given either a yes or a no.

“No,” I decline, looking towards the ground. I feel immensely guilty for not accepting to share with him, but I don’t want to burden him with my problems. Hell, even staying with him might be a burden. I don’t want to burden people. I’m not worth their caring words. I’m just useless trash that looks for validation constantly, but never wanting to accept compliments. I’m difficult and I feel bad for people that have to put up with me. I don’t want people to put up with me. I don’t deserve friendship.

I don’t want to exist.

“Okay,” he says unaffected. Not the slightest bit angry or disappointed.

I’m shocked. Completely surprised but I don’t show it. He just…accepted it? Without looking disappointed or displeased. He doesn’t look burdened at all, “…I’ll tell you later,” I continue, looking down to the side still not wanting to make any eye contact for if I do I might implode. I don’t deserve this warmth of his words. This reassurance. I feel disgusting for being who I am and being treated kindly.

“Alright. Again, you don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to. I don’t mind. I’ll still be here for you,”

For a moment I feel like crying. It’s such a relief to have someone that won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want to. It’s relieving and I don’t have to feel guilty for not saying anything. Well, I should, but I know that my mind will never accept it.

We leave the practice room before any teachers could kick us out and proceeded towards the art wing to my art class to grab a couple of bus passes. My art teacher is a very nice and lovely person so she hands us the bus passes with a cheerful smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Akaashi!” she exclaims, eyes wrinkling at the sides.

I hum in agreement while giving a slight nod with my head.

“Thanks, ma’am!” Bokuto exclaims back to her.

“Anytime, kids! See you around,” she waves, still smiling as usual. 

He waves back and responds with a loud “Yeah!” and we proceeded out the door. I could never understand such enthusiasm. It was foreign and unrealistic to me. How could people be so happy? Well, they’re not you so I guess that makes sense. It’s unfair. Life is unfair.

But I deserve it. The unfairness of the world.

We headed down the hallway and exited through one of the side doors near the music wing.

The sky is cloudy and shows signs of raining. The wind is slightly stronger than what it was this morning, but it was calming.

“Yo! Bokuto! Akaashi!” I hear in the distance. It’s Kuroo and behind him Kenma could be seen. Kenma was on his DS as usual, not paying attention to the world around him. I can understand his reasoning for doing so.

“Hey, Kuroo! Hey, Kenma!” Bokuto shouts back. Kenma looking up for a bit and nodding in recognition while Kuroo and Bokuto picked up the pace towards each other. They both engulfed one another with a hug excitedly and tightly. Meanwhile, Kenma and I were just standing off to the side while the two best friends high fived and fooled around with each other. It was just another day with those guys. Bokuto and Kuroo both act like they haven’t seen each other in the past five years whenever they see each other. Their friendship is truly something else. They’re so physical with each other, always poking and prodding. They’re so close and it honestly would probably make anyone jealous at their affection and closeness. It’s really nice to watch these two interact though. They’re both really healthy for each other. It must be warm. I don’t need to be here with them. I’d just get in the way. 

After a while of the two bullshitting with each other the busses started to arrive. 

“What late bus are we on?” I ask Bokuto so that he wasn’t distracted and miss the bus we need to take.

“Bus 4-5,” he responded while saying his goodbyes to Kuroo and Kenma. While he was doing that I was keeping watch for our bus.

After about five minutes of waiting and looking, bus 4-5 showed up. I nudged Bokuto in acknowledgment of the bus. We headed towards it and entered, showing the bus driver our passes and I repeating the name of the two streets Bokuto had previously mentioned. 

We sat down where we previously did that morning and I took out my earbuds once more and put them in my ears. I turned on the music and looked out the window waiting for the bus to depart. Bokuto was chatting alongside with some of his classmates on the bus as well but this time he was in the seat across from mine. 

Before long, the bus started to depart. Bokuto continued talking with his peers throughout the ride while I, as usual, stared out at nothing from the window and listened to the music I was slowly getting sick of from listening to it for so many time. The sickening feeling of my ears repulsing some if not most of the songs on my playlist. They were annoying for I did really enjoy the music but after listening to the same songs over and over again I subconsciously begin to dislike it.

The bus stopped about five times before getting to our stop. Once we arrived, we got off and walked back to Bokuto’s house. I’m tired, but I have homework to do. I don’t want to do anything, but at the same time I don’t want to fail either. We get to his house and he uses his key to unlock the door with a tiny click and went inside. 

As usual I headed straight up the stairs and into his room while he went into the kitchen. Most likely to get something to eat. I set down my bag, kick off my shoes this time and crash onto his bed. I’m too tired and unmotivated to physically or mentally do anything. I’m just going to rest for a bit.


	3. ATENTION

hey guys ! I know it's been a while since the last update but I would like to inform you that, yes, I will be updating, and, yes, the updates will take longer. I've been very busy lately and I'll try to update as soon as I can. ALSO, I'm going to be re-writing the story to be in third person pov, therefore making the next update even longer. so don't worry, the story will continue but it's gonna take some time


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